Brandon Twice
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Private Competition (Part 3)
🕑 Added 2019-07-18 00:56:04 +0000 UTCAll four competitors stood there, stunned, so I was forced to remind them that I was in control (and impatient). “I said, SIDE CHEST POSE!” With the last word an invisible force burst from me, spreading through the auditorium. First the judges, then the audience behind them, blew apart like dry leaves. It was merely a demonstration; when I returned the flow of time to normal, I would restore these bystanders as well. But my competitors’ eyes went wide and jumped into motion.
Both Phil and Derek still seemed in shock from the dramatic loss between their legs. Derek muttered as he hit his pose, his eyes looking down at the nearly invisible nub in his brightly colored posers. They had shrunk after their contents had been emptied; now he looked much like an absurdly over-muscled action figure with a smooth crotch. Closer inspection, of course, would reveal that his dick was still there, but just a head barely bigger than an acorn above a little slip of scrotum containing two testicles smaller than aspirins.
Later on, after his new reality had set in, he would reach down to touch his new micro-unit and find it overwhelmingly sensitive. While I’d shrunk the size of his big dick, I’d compressed the nerves into the smaller space. Just barely brushing his fingertip across it would cause him to sink to his knees, sweating profusely. The same would be true for the others, with their shrunken cocks as well.
Phil was clearly doing his best to ignore the loss of his cock, looking anywhere but between his quads. He held his pose, his lip trembling as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to pretend it wasn’t there. He could feel the gentle movement of his posers every time he shifted his position. Every gentle touch to his new mini-dick set off fireworks in his head. The fact that something he could barely see was driving him crazy was clearly disrupting his concentration: he wobbled as he hit his side chest, lost his footing, and had to reset himself several times.
Meanwhile, Adam, with his new monstrous cock, found the huge organ nearly too distracting to pose. As he shifted his hips, the weight of the mammoth organ pulling on his groin made his eyes go wide. It seemed to be consuming so much bloodflow that he had barely enough left for his brain. Just thinking was a chore for the big man. He went into autopilot as his posed, unable to muster up enough brainpower to even be intimidated by his new situation. “Flex… good. Squeeze… good. Muscles… good.” It was obvious on the man’s slack face that his lights were going dim.
Only Andrey was able to pose unfettered by his new situation. His dick hadn’t been that huge before, especially after having pumped his body full of anabolics since his early teens. I could clearly see into his past: as he walked through every locker room he had ever been in he kept his eyes on the floor, unable to bear seeing how well-endowed other men were. He grew an emotional callous to it eventually, so proud of his juiced-up physique that the loss of his dick was of no consequence to him. He hit a beautiful side chest pose, then a back double bi, then a rear lat spread that was so thick and impressive he looked like he could take flight with enough runway.
Clearly he was the winner here. And as the winner, he had to be rewarded. “Congratulations, Andrey. Enjoy your rewards.”
Andrey’s whole body pulsed for a moment, a whole-body flex. He whirled around and looked down at himself, then up at me, as it happened again. Was he bigger now? He examined the body he knew so well, then compared himself to the bodybuilders on either side of him.
Andrey’s eyes went wide as a sensation ran through his body. He could hear the sound of his body expanding, like a balloon stretching, as mass poured onto his frame. In moments his traps had blown up so big he could barely turn his head. Pecs that had obstructed his view of the floor for years got even bigger and heavier, while the lats beneath them swelled up, pushing his inflating arms up so that they nearly stuck out straight on each side.
The added size to his legs forced him to widen his stance so much his ability to stay upright was put in jeopardy. His body kept bloating far beyond what would allow movement. His roidgut became a massive turtleshell distending beyond his ample pecs, his glutes now a pronounced shelf swallowing up the back of his posers.
Meanwhile, as Andrey turned into an engorged tick of muscularity, the other three men experienced the opposite: with the sound of a tire with a small leak, each of them found their muscles withering away. I was kind enough to allow them to move. While Phil and Derek slapped uselessly at their deflating bodies, Adam just held his lat spread as his hulking physique slowly compressed.
When it was done, Adam, Derek and Phil looked like men with average physiques. They were still in phenomenal shape, but their days of bodybuilding were clearly behind them. Each of them would have been outsized by the smallest lightweight. They were built like underwear models now, except no underwear company would hire someone with such freakishly small (or in Adam’s case, enormous) bulges.
Their now average frames made Andrey’s newly enlarged body that much more intimidating. Derek and Adam, on either side of the elephantine Russian, edged away from him as he stood there moaning through his bloated muscle-cheeks and wiggling his sausage fingers (the most movement he could muster with all those oversized muscles pushing against each other).
Then Andrey started to tilt forward. His eyes went wide as he realized he was falling and there was nothing he could do about it, but not for long: his gigantic muscletits stopped him almost immediately. His arms out straight, he tried to wobble back and forth, alternately flexing each pec as he tried to get enough momentum to get himself upright. He simply had too much muscle. The big Russian wasn’t going anywhere.
“You may speak, gentlemen. Tell me how you feel?”
“THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO US?” Derek screamed. He couldn’t keep his hands off his suddenly lean and narrow frame, as if he could prod it back to its original size.
“First our dicks, then our muscles?” Phil whined. With his shredded physique covered in tattoos, he looked like he could be a musician. With all his mass gone, his face looked gaunt. Gone were the days of being unable to fit into most clothes. Phil would barely fill out a size Medium now.
“Can’t… think…” mumbled Adam. His dick was now more than a third of his bodyweight. He still had his angelic face, his all-american blonde-blue-eyed good looks and his chiseled 8-pack, but he was now about a hundred and fifty pounds lighter than he had been earlier that day. He barely had the mental capacity to turn a doorknob, much less form a coherent sentence.
“What about the parade float over here?” I said gesturing to the monstrosity of muscle Andrey had become. “How do you feel?”
“Too big…” he wheezed. “Please, make me… smaller…”
I shook my head. “How ungrateful. I granted your heart’s truest desire. For twenty years every thought in your head was of being the biggest in the world. Wish granted, my dear! What ever happened to your life’s motto, ‘No such thing as too big!’?”
“At least we can have normal lives,” Phil said to Derek. He thumbed over at immobile Andrey and empty-headed Adam. “What the hell are they gonna do?”
“What kind of normal life can I have now?” Derek growled, shoving Phil away. “At least those two freaks can make money in a sideshow. I’ll lose all my sponsorships and my clients! What am I gonna do, get a job at a bank?”
“Whatever you do, I wouldn’t recommend mingling backstage,” I said to Derek, wagging a finger. “Many of those men remember how cocky and dismissive you were before the competition. And right now, it looks like even the bantamweights could toss you through a wall like nothing.”
“What’s next?” said Phil with a desperate look. “There can’t be just two rounds! There’s gotta be more, right? One of us can win next round, right?”
“Don’t you get it?” Derek said. “There’s no winners here! Everybody loses!” He gave Phil a shove but was surprised when he didn’t go very far.
“As a matter of fact, there is another round,” I said. “But since posing wouldn’t be that impressive for you three--and it would be quite impossible for our immobile Russian muscleblimp there--here’s a challenge. If you three can work together to get Andrey back on his feet, I’ll consider restoring an attribute of my choosing.”
Derek and Phil glanced at each other, then approached the quivering pile of Russian muscle slowly. They tried to get underneath his arm, but their feet slid out from under them as they attempted to lift it.
“Dammit, you’re weak as hell!” Derek barked at Phil.
“We’re both weak as hell, idiot!” Phil spat back.
“Why isn’t he helping?” Derek said to Adam, whose lithe legs and narrow back could no longer support the weight of his gigantic manhood. He had sunk to the stage and now sat crosslegged, panting as waves of heat poured off his huge member.
“He probably can’t,” Phil said as he walked a revolution around the blonde. “Looks like his dick’s using all the blood in his body!”
“Get the fuck up!” Derek said, shoving Adam. The blonde just wobbled back and forth, staring dead-eyed out at nothing.
“Hey man, leave him alone!” Phil said. He tried to pull Derek away but neither of them had much strength to back up their efforts.
Suddenly Adam groaned, swinging his arms out wildly. He moaned like a zombie and flailed without any obvious targets. Both Phil and Derek took an open-handed slap to the face.
“Gentlemen!” I reminded as the three squabbled. Andrey just lay there, so beautifully huge but so useless. “The clock is ticking! You don’t want to know what happens if you all fail.”
